


even chaos forms patterns given enough time and space

by mythras_fire



Series: Friday Night Chats Plot-Bunny Factory [15]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alien Powers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Conversations, Episode #201: "Stay (I Missed You)" imagining, Episode Tag, Geek Love, Guerin is a little shit, M/M, Malex Feels, Marvel References, Men in Black references, Ode to Michael Guerin's Gorgeous Back, POV Alex Manes, Reconciliation, Research-mode Michael, Sleepy Cuddles, X-Men References, alien science, rnmweek19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2020-07-24 01:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20017669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythras_fire/pseuds/mythras_fire
Summary: Story begins the week following the events of 1x13. Basically it's my imagining of what s2e1 could be like. So, of course it takes place almost entirely in the bunker where Michael and Alex are holed up together. Cuddles ensue. Because I wrote this ^^.





	1. There's a Treasure Map Hidden in Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter of this story was written for the last day of Roswell New Mexico Week 2019: free day. I had a ton of fun writing/arting/reading during this week's festivities so I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who participated and to the lovely people who came up with the idea ♥
> 
> Disclaimer: All quotes, characters, and pop-culture/literary references belong to their respective creators.

"Michael, come to bed. It's late."

"'m fine," comes the predictably stubborn response.

"I know you are, but that's beside the point," Alex resorts to flirting as it usually does the trick.

True to form, Michael finally looks up from the complicated biochemistry notes Liz had given him earlier right before she'd dragged her own exhausted genius brain home to cuddle with Rosa, who was still taking in all the changes to her resuscitated world.

He takes a swig of acetone and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, brown eyes bleary, a yawn escaping before he replies cheekily, "Is it? I kinda like being the point."

Alex sighs good-naturedly and tries again to coax his boyfriend over to the cot he'd set up in the opposite corner of the bunker. He'd given up trying to get Michael to go upstairs to the Airstream two nights ago.

"As do I, but there can't be any pointing going on when I'm over here and you're all the way over there, now can there?"

The fact that Alex can see the wheels in Michael's head turning that sentence over and over trying to sus out the meaning should be telling Michael that he's too tired to be of any more use to Max's cause tonight. He'd given up trying to tell Michael that directly three nights ago. Now he just relies on flirtatious confusion and cuddle invites to get the beleaguered alien to turn his brain down to half-power and sleep for a few hours at night.

"Come on, Cowboy," he pats the space next to him on the cot in an inviting manner, "I'll give you a back rub before we go to sleep."

Those appear to be tonight's magic words because Michael's eyebrows, tired of frowning in concentration and frustration all day, jump for joy. That crazy hot mess he calls his curls bounces every which way as he sighs wearily, gets up from the stool where he's been camped out the last several hours, and sleepily shuffles his way over to the cot, rubbing his eyes as he goes.

"'m still pointy, though," he mumble-argues. He somehow manages to get stuck in his undershirt and Alex guides him down to the twin-sized camping mattress as he pulls it over his head.

"Mr. Pointy, that's you," Alex coos with a kiss to his now-bared shoulder. That earns him a sleepy but satisfied _hmmm_ from Michael. 

Alex helps him get his pants off and Michael is still dexterous enough to remove his socks without falling off the cot. Alex rewards him with a kiss on the lips when Michael rights himself, clad in just his black boxer shorts.

"Mmmm, fruity," Alex smiles at the taste Michael's kiss leaves in his mouth. "You should just drink acetone from now on. It smells so much better on your breath than that rot-gut you drink at the Pony."

Michael has gone from being stubbornly awake and "productive" to being five seconds away from sleeping like a log and taking up even more space on the cot than usual. Alex doesn't mind that part so much, though; he loves being cocooned between Michael and the wall.

"Gonna tell Ma—"

"No, on your stomach. Yeah, there ya go."

"M'kay. Gonna tell Maria you called her whiskey rot-gut," Michael giggles into the pillow, eyes already closed. "She's gonna be so mad at you."

Alex's breath still catches in his throat a little bit whenever Michael says Maria's name. It has been a whirlwind of a week. Alex practically has whiplash from all the extreme emotions he's gone through in the past seven days. He'd waited all morning for Michael to come back to the Airstream so they could talk, and he could have filled a waste-paper basket three times over with crumpled-up iterations of the speech he'd composed in his head. Plus every single worst-case scenario he could devise as to how Michael might react, but even then he was ill-prepared for the news that Michael brought home when he finally returned to him. In more ways than one, it turns out.

"Doubtful. She's probably going to thank me for saving all her whiskey for actual paying customers. And for giving her bouncer something else to do besides kicking your sweet alien ass to the curb every other night for picking fights to get out of paying for said whiskey."

Michael had been a disconsolate wreck, sobbing into Alex's leather jacket from the moment he tumbled from the truck and into his arms after he'd screeched to a halt on the dirt floor of the junkyard. Alex had finally managed to pull two words out of him that made his heart weep for Michael and tears run down his own face. _Max. Dead._ A couple of hours and a fitful nap from sheer exhaustion later, Alex was propped up against the tiny headboard in the caravan, with Michael pressed up against his side, his head lying on his chest as Alex ran his fingers softly through Michael's curls, the rhythmic motion soothing both of their frazzled nerves.

"Ooh burn! Damn, you play for keeps, don't you?" 

Michael had whispered into the confessional of Alex's warm embrace that he had kissed Maria that morning and only held on tighter when Alex had tensed in his arms. He'd quickly gone on to explain that when the psychic call from Isobel came, it was just a wordless scream of pain that nearly knocked him from his chair. Michael'd known in that moment that Max was gone, and he'd been about to grab Maria so they could make a run for the arroyo where he could sense Isobel's presence, but he'd drawn up short when he saw her staring at his healed hand with a look of incomprehension on her face. 

"Damn right I do. But you do run hot, Guerin, so I know you can take it." Alex smirks at the pretty blush working its way down Michael's cheek onto the back of his neck as he trails his fingers down the expanse of golden skin before him like little sprites gliding across a frozen pond in a wintry forest.

Alex had promptly pried Michael's left hand from its death grip around his waist to see for himself and gasped audibly at the sight of the righted tendons and un-gnarled knuckles, skin smooth as silk. Their fingers intertwined and gripped. Hard. _Max_ was all Michael had said before he released the air in his lungs in a whoosh and buried his face in Alex's neck to whisper raggedly into his ear that he'd panicked and run. Left her standing there in the bar, shell-shocked but safe. Safe in her ignorance. He'd realized in that moment that he couldn't tell her what was going on. Couldn't confide in her that way. He didn't want to drag her down into their warzone. He'd thought he wanted someone safe, someone with whom he could pretend to be human, like Isobel had done with Noah all those years. Pfft. Look how well that'd turned out.

"'s right. I want everything you got. No more hiding. Cuz I'm y..." Michael trails off as he falls asleep midsentence. 

Alex had spent the next couple of days hiding away from the world with Michael in the Airstream. Just the two of them. Getting to know each other all over again for the first time. Michael had told him about Rosa and how they'd put Max in his own pod in the cave to keep him safe while they tried to figure out how to bring him back. There was never talk of _if_. Only _how_. On the third day, they'd come down to the bunker, called Liz, and set to work. Isobel was keeping a vigil for Max at the cave as he had done for her. Kyle went and checked on her regularly, sticking around to keep her company when he wasn't on call. The telepathic connection between Max and Isobel seemed to have shifted and for right now, Michael was content with keeping Isobel company long-distance while he worked on bringing their brother back.

Alex leans down to press a tender kiss to Michael's cheek. "You are mine. Yes." He knows this now. He's always known it. But he's finally in a place in his life to _do_ something about it.

The more time they spend down here, together, amongst all of the pieces of Michael's home that are left on Earth; the more Alex watches Michael wear himself out trying to find a way to bring Max back; the easier it is for Alex to be hopeful that this time, they're going to make it.

He sets about removing his prosthetic, placing it carefully underneath the cot within easy reach, grimacing a bit at the way the top part rubs into his stump from too many hours on his feet, well, foot. He grabs the ointment for his leg from a nearby shelf – he'd stashed it when it became apparent that he'd be camping out down here for the foreseeable future to keep Michael company – and applies it to the chafed skin around the edges. The back rub can wait until morning. Alex wants Michael to get all the sleep he can manage. He curls his body around the heat source asleep in front of him and wishes sweet dreams for them both.

~*~

"Are you... kissing my... moles?"

"Good morning to you, too. Way to pick the sexiest word ever, Michael, good job, I'm all a-quiver," Alex deadpans from his strategic position splayed across Michael's gorgeous back, reveling in the warmth his alien boyfriend radiates. "And how do you know I'm kissing your beauty marks anyway? They're on your back. Or can you turn your head 360 degrees like an owl?"

"Even chaos forms patterns given enough time and space."

"My, aren't we deep and scientifically poetic this morning."

"Hey, I'm a deep guy. It's about time you admitted you love me for more than just my curls."

Alex sighs happily into the dip of Michael's shoulder blades before placing a kiss there, too. "Okay, fine," he faux-whines, drawing out the vowel sound in the word 'fine'. "I guess I love the little grey cells underneath the curls, too. But that's where I draw the line."

Michael laughs, the movement shaking Alex a bit as his perch bounces up and down momentarily.

"Oh! Speaking of drawing lines..." Alex reaches out blindly with one hand over to the nearest horizontal surface. He knows he saw a fine-point pen lying near the edge last night.... got it!

"Are you drawing on me now, Private?" comes the amused question from below. 

Michael slept so soundly last night he barely shifted, so he was still lying on his stomach when Alex woke up. He'd been gazing at his back as sunlight slowly sank into the bunker when he slowly became aware of the array of little beauty marks dotting the landscape of Michael's skin. His ribs looked like mountains that breathed as they rose and fell to the rhythm of his heart. The planes of his shoulder blades looked like the plains of the desert foothills outside the caravan. The beauty marks looked like little stars reflected in the calm waters of the long lake of his spine opposite a night sky. Alex had been captivated by the canvas before him and before long he'd been pressing little kisses from star to star, traversing them like The Little Prince does.

"I'm plotting the stars."

"Oh? And what do they tell you, O Wise Seafarer?"

Alex sticks his tongue out in concentration as he finishes connecting the last pair of dots on Michael's back. 

He sits back to get a better look and freezes at the sight before him.

"No, no that can't be right..." Alex's brow furrows. 

He levers himself off the cot, too impatient to put his prosthetic back on, and leans on the tables to help him maneuver the room until he reaches the one that holds the paper he wants. 

"Alex? What is it?" Michael asks, rising up to rest on his elbows, trying to see what Alex is up to.

He clenches the paper in his teeth and propels himself back to the cot. Alex unceremoniously pushes Michael back down onto the cot and straddles his back, using his pillow to support his right thigh. Michael starts to say something saucy about such heavy-handed treatment but Alex just shushes him, all playfulness wiped from his face for the moment.

Alex has only drawn straight lines, like he would to complete a connect-the-dots coloring sheet, but if he uses this piece of paper as a reference, shades in the right places, and draws encompassing circles here _over Michael's heart,_ here _over the base of his spine,_ and here _over his right shoulder blade,_ it looks just like...

"Michael..." Alex isn't sure what to think, so he just hands Michael the paper as he grasps around a nearby table for his phone. He finds it still in the back pocket of his jeans and pulls it out to take a photo of Michael's back so he can see what Alex sees.

"What the ever-loving fuck?"

Alex just looks down at Michael, a worried glint in his eyes, a thumbnail caught between his teeth out of nervous habit.

"You drew on my back with a Sharpie?!"

Alex just kind of deflates in that moment. Michael's coping mechanism in times of stress couldn't be more welcome and he just wants to hug all the air out of him. He drapes himself over his lover's back and barely manages to say with a straight face, "It'll wash off, but that's beside the point."

Yeah, they'll be fine.


	2. Catch the Glowing Embers of My Heart in Your Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everyone who was curious about the end of this story, here's a second chapter. Thank you for your comments and kudos, they made my day and then some <3.

Alex blames the stuffy air in the bunker for him nodding off again while ensconced halfway between Michael and the wall. It's so easy to forget that there's a world up there when he's this cozy and warm. However, he really should get up and turn on the fans that pull in air from above, and he starts to shift away, oh so reluctantly, when his pillow grumbles. Alex gets a better idea and settles back down.

"Guerin, be a dear and use your phenomenal cosmic powers to turn the fans on, please."

"Your wish is my command, Aladdin."

"Thanks, Genie," Alex chuckles into the crook of Michael's neck. When he feels cooler air start to circulate overhead, he leans forward to show Michael his appreciation.

The kiss is sweetly languid and chaste, partly due to the awkward angle of their bodies what with Alex basically plastered to Michael's back at the moment, the sharpie lines between them shoved away from the forefront of Alex's thoughts. But also, partly because languid and slow is a new step for them. They never made it to the lazy-kisses-in-the-morning stage of their relationship in high school. Alex runs his left hand down Michael's arm in search of his newly healed hand. He's developed a bit of a habit this past week of seeking comfort and reassurance in the recently recovered strength in Michael's left hand. _When_ they figure out how to bring Max back, Alex is going to give him his heartfelt thanks.

He finds the nimble fingers that have re-discovered long-lost calluses from practicing chord progressions on his guitar and intertwines their fingers as they continue to breathe in each other's peace. Warmth suffuses Alex's heart and spreads out towards the base of his spine, tingling all of his nerve-endings clear up to the top of his right shoulder. He sighs into the kiss, feeling incredibly sappy and not giving a damn.

Except for that bright light that's trying to burn its way through his eyelids all of a sudden, things are good. Michael must have turned on the lights with his telekinesis when he turned the fans on, but he doesn't recall them ever being this bright before. He cracks one eye open so he can check on which light to ask Michael to dim when he realizes the light isn't coming from above them. 

It's coming from in between them.

Alex closes his eye and is about to mumble into Michael's mouth that he needs to turn down the glowworm effect when his brain parses that train of thought and pushes the handle to FULL STOP.

"Guerin..." he hisses against Michael's lips as he pulls his head up and opens both eyes, afraid to look back towards his chest.

"Mmm?" comes the oblivious response; Michael's eyes are still closed, his lips puckering in search of Alex's.

"Why the fuck are you glowing?!"

Michael's eyes shoot open and he tries to look over his shoulder but can't with Alex lying on top of him. Alex leans back and over to rest on his left side so they can both take a look but with his movement comes a bright flash of white light that momentarily has him seeing spots.

"Alex, look!"

Alex feels like that's the last thing he should be doing but the compulsion to look is too strong and when he follows Michael's gaze, he startles so suddenly that he falls backward off the cot and lands on his back in a flurry of flailing arms, blanket, and leg-and-a-half. He slaps haphazardly at the skin on his chest and abdomen, trying to put out the glowing lines that look like embers from a banked fire that have jumped the grate. Which is what his brain thinks they are until he realizes that he's brushing away only wisps of dust motes caught in the late morning air of the bunker, the lines of light already fizzing away.

Alex lets his head fall back to the floor with a soft _thud_ and releases a frazzled lungful of air.

Riotous curls peek cautiously over the edge of the cot, followed by a pair of concerned but also rather sheepish-looking brown eyes. 

Alex glares up at his alien boyfriend before raising an eyebrow. The eyes follow the movement but make no comment. "Lucy, you got some 'splainin' to do," he says in his best Ricky Ricardo accent. "But first, help a guy up, will ya?"

Michael seems much more eager to comply with Alex's second request and is up in a flash to help him back onto the cot and into a sitting position. Michael bends down to grasp around for the prosthetic, pulls it out from under the camp bed and waits for Alex to put on the liner first before handing it over.

"I don't know what that was. Are you okay? Did it hurt you?" Michael kneels in front of Alex and reaches out to trace a finger across his chest where he'd seen the glowing lines flash. 

Alex can hear the strain in his voice, see the furrowed brow and worried set of his jaw. He covers Michael's hand with his own, stopping him from completing his inventory of Alex's surprisingly unaffected skin, he notes, as he dares to look down at his chest and abdomen. Michael looks up at him for reassurance that he's really okay.

Alex does an internal-systems check, a common-enough practice from his days in the Air Force, and the report comes back negative. "No, it just startled me, Cowboy, that's all and I uh, lost my balance," he takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.

Michael starts fidgeting with Alex's fingers, a sure sign that he's trying to reign himself in. Alex hates seeing him shut down like that. "Hey," he says softly, "how are you feeling?"

Michael just lays his head in Alex's lap, "I'm here with you."

Alex has to smile at that. Seems they have more to learn about each other.


	3. Two Hearts that Beat as One Are Stronger Still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to annunziatina and bgn while I write this story. I challenged myself to write some flirty!boys for this chapter and their moral support means the world to me. 
> 
> Disclaimer: all characters, quotes, and pop culture references belong to their respective creators.

Alex reluctantly leaves the relative safety and security of the bunker the next day because he's used up the vacation days he hastily applied for before they went out on their field trip to Caulfield. He has a surplus of accrued vacation time he can still spend before his honorable discharge appointment but he wants to go into work while his father is still in a medically-induced coma to snoop around and see if there's anything else he can find related to Project Shepherd or evidence of what he is using to blackmail Flint. His dad can just stay chained to a hospital bed for all he cares right now. Alex needs to buy Kyle a drink or whatever it is one does for one's previously estranged best friend.

He also needs to grab more clothes to stash upstairs in the caravan, and some of his books. And his laptop. And he should probably fess up and give Michael the piece of alien glass he's been holding on to like a childish talisman, believing that if he kept it away from Michael that'd mean he'd have to stay on Earth with Alex. Well, last week Michael did a pretty good job showing Alex, albeit unknowingly, what a stupidly naïve hope that was. Alex is just damn lucky the universe has given him a ~~seventh~~ nother chance to prove to Michael that they belong together. Are stronger together. Clusterfuck of a shared past and all. And if Michael still wants to leave the planet when he finishes building his ship? Well. They're just going to have to find out how well humans take to space travel inside an alien spacecraft. 

Alex can't help smirking at the dirty joke that runs through his head. At least he'd enjoy being probed by this particular alien.

When he returns in the evening, the sun has turned the surrounding foothills to gold and the sky is on fire. Alex parks out of the way just as the last car of the day exits through the rusted entrance, kicking up a cloud of dust that settles down on top of every surface in the Junkyard. Including one extremely captivating, ridiculously messy bastard who looks criminally good in black jeans, grease, and a white t-shirt that clings to his rugged frame in the New Mexican desert sun. Even in winter, he manages to work up a sweat. 

The sunset around these parts is a sight to behold, no question, but it has nothing on one Michael Fucking Guerin. Alex quietly places his bag of clothes and other peripherals in the back of Michael's truck for the moment and leans against the driver's door, enjoying the hell out of his voyeuristic view since the mechanic didn't hear him come in and is currently bent over his workbench, putting his tools away for the day. Alex watches with delight the way his muscles cord under his shirt as he reaches forward. He looks down at the way his shirt rides up over that fine ass and those strong thighs. The lines that Alex drew across his back yesterday show through the thin cotton here and there, taunting him with their air of mystery.

There hadn't been any more flashes of light or strange tingling sensations in Alex's chest, spine, or shoulder, but they were both still a little unnerved last night. Alex hates this feeling of uncertainty. He lives to decipher codes. He's very proficient at it, an expert even. But all the codes he decrypts are made by humans, or by computers that have been programmed by humans. A code created by aliens, though? That's a whole different ballgame. One Alex is more than willing to play for however many extra innings it takes to—

"There somethin' I can help you with, _sir_?"

Alex is pulled from his thoughts by an amused, sultry voice, all rough around the edges. Just hearing his man speak in that low, raspy tone he uses sometimes is enough to make Alex's cock twitch in his pants, but the look Michael is currently directing at him, combined with a barely concealed smirk as he oh-so-casually leans a hip against the workbench as he wipes his hands on a rag, has him going from soft to rock-hard in no time flat and he barely restrains a groan. 

He schools his features, clears his throat, and gives as good as he gets. "Yeah, I do believe there is. My engine is acting up and I was wondering if we could take it for a test drive."

Michael gives him a considering look not unlike the one that is burned into Alex's brain from that kiss at their high school reunion. Alex stands up straighter under the scrutiny, pushing off from where he'd been leaning on the truck. He licks his lips in anticipation, eyes darting from Michael's face to his throat to the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and back up to his beautiful brown eyes.

"You sayin' you wanna go for a ride?"

Alex watches Michael saunter closer, rag thrown aside, looking every bit the definition of macho cowboy swagger, thumbs hooked in the loops near his big brass belt buckle.

He reaches out to wind his fingers through Michael's glorious curls some of which are plastered to his forehead and neck from a good day's hard work, but the other man just keeps walking forward until Alex is crowded up against the driver's door of the old Chevy.

The impact is slight – Michael is always gentle with him unless told otherwise – but Alex lets it push all the air out of his lungs on a sigh. He can't help the smile that stretches across his face as he pulls Michael in flush against him, their bodies fitting together just so. Both hiss quietly as their cocks say hello. He looks up into his boyfriend's eyes and it feels like home.

"I would have said yes, you know."

One of Michael's eyebrows raises in askance. "Would have?" His hands have snaked around Alex's neck and his thumbs begin a soothing caress at the bottom of his hairline.

"I wanted to. I really did," Alex reiterates. He glances over at the bed of Michael's truck. "At the drive-in."

The thumbs caressing his neck pause, pain flashes across Michael's beautiful face, and Alex immediately regrets putting it there. But he needs to say this. He needs Michael to know why he hesitated. He licks his lips absent-mindedly as he slides his hands down Michael's torso to wrap around his waist. Holding him loosely but securely.

Alex loves Michael even more for how much he can see and feel the other man struggling to maintain his calm. This close to one another, they can feel every tremor, every sigh. There's nowhere to hide. Good. Alex is tired of hiding. Tired of running.

Michael has to clear his throat before he can get any words out, his eyes unfocused, head tilted down as he quietly asks, "Then why didn't you?" Even his voice sounds hurt.

Alex squeezes his waist to get his attention, then looks directly into Michael's eyes as he confesses, "I was scared."

Michael's eyes still look sad, but Alex thinks they hold understanding, too. "Know what? I never got to tell you how proud I was of you that night, because of what... um, later when, how we—"

Alex's eyebrows rise at the surprise praise. "Proud?" A small smile sneaks onto his face. "Of me?" He can feel himself blushing, too.

Michael's thumbs resume their random orbits along the bottom of Alex's hairline. "Yep," he replies, popping the 'p' sound.

Alex waits for him to elaborate, and when he doesn't, he presses their hips together in encouragement to continue, causing them both to gasp at the delicious friction generated by that movement.

When Michael dips his head down in search of Alex's lips, Alex deftly ducks his head to one side, "Not until you tell me why you were proud of me," he says, still blushing but too happy to care.

Now it's Michael's turn to look a little pink around the cheeks but he nods slightly and explains, "For asking me to stay and watch that awful movie with you." With his healed hand, he traces the curve of Alex's collarbone where it pokes out of his polo shirt. "Right out there in the open. In the middle of a pit of vipers. Oh woops, I meant Air Force personnel," Michael deadpans, the look in his intelligent eyes totally stage-whispering _sorry not sorry_. 

Alex lets his head fall forward onto Michael's shoulder and giggles, enjoying the way his body vibrates every so slightly against Michael's. "Oh, that."

"Yes, that."

"Well, thanks, I guess," Alex says into Michael's shirt, probably getting grease on his forehead but whatever. "I might have overreacted before, um, in the Airstream, when Isobel arrived out of the blue. And I panicked."

"It's okay, Alex."

"No, it wasn't. I was so happy to wake up next to you that morning. I was just having trouble believing it was real. It felt like a dream," Alex raises his head to look at Michael again. "And I didn't want to wake up." 

Michael's eyes zoom in on a spot above Alex's left eye but before Alex can say anything, he's licked one of his thumbs and proceeds to rub a spot of grease off Alex's forehead.

Alex sighs. "I wanted to make it up to you somehow."

"So, you thought up the most public way to say Fuck You to your dad and basically asked me out on a date at his very own fundraiser."

Alex groans and lets his head fall backward this time against the edge of the truck, closing his eyes as a million conflicting emotions escape with that sound. "Seemed like a good idea at the time, yeah. Too bad I was still too chickenshit to actually follow through with it."

Alex startles when he suddenly feels warm, slightly chapped lips on the exposed skin of his neck but shivers in the next moment when Michael speaks into his skin, the words reverberating through his body.

"It was a wonderful idea."

"You're wonderful."

"This is turning out way better than last time. I think my chances of taking you for a ride are much higher."

"Do you feel lucky, punk?" Alex giggles again.

Michael looks pained again but this time it's in mock annoyance. "That's not how the line goes, Private! Dirty Harry walks up to the guy and he says—"

"Cowboy?"

"No, he wasn't a cowboy in this one. You're thinking of his Spaghetti Westerns. Shit, have you not seen this—"

"Michael." A little more insistently.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Kiss me, you fool."

~*~

They are spooning in the bed of Michael's truck afterward when a pair of headlights comes snaking around the corner into the Junkyard, giving them pause. Dayum, what is it with people interrupting them in the middle of their sexy time cuddles?

Unsurprisingly, Michael is indifferent about their impending accidental exhibitionism and doesn't even look to see who it is but rather tries to regain Alex's attention by slowly kissing a trail up his chest.

"Guerin, s-stop!" Alex hisses as he flails around trying to reach the red plaid blanket that Michael keeps back there once his eyes adjust to the brightness and Alex recognizes Kyle's car. Shit. He pulls his bag of clothes behind his head up against the cab window so he's propped up a little more as he pulls as much of it over their bodies as possible, almost knocking his prosthetic off the tailgate in the process. Only Michael's head is now sticking out at the top of the blanket.

Kyle, of course, is not expecting to see anyone in the bed of Michael's truck so he does a double take that stops him in his tracks as he passes by the tailgate. "Alex? What're you doing out he—" his eyes widen in sudden realization and snap down to where Alex can tell he's just spotted Michael who has turned onto his side to snuggle up against the right side of Alex's chest upon hearing who it is, making the blanket fall down somewhat. Shit shit shit.

"Kyle! Hi," Alex aims for a nonchalance he certainly does not feel. Michael stroking his hand ~~possessively~~ restlessly up and down the outside of Alex's left thigh under the blanket isn't exactly helping either. "What uh, what brings you by at this hour? _Quit that!_ " he whisper-yells out of the side of his mouth at the unrepentant alien plastered to his side while trying to maintain a calm façade.

It appears to take some effort for Kyle to drag his eyes away from what Alex suspects is a Cheshire grin on Michael's face to meet his friend's eyes. Kyle's brow furrows as the words finally ping in his brain and he glances down at his fancy doctor's watch. "Dude, it's like 6:30."

"Oh. Right." Stupid early wintertime sunsets. "So uh, did you... need something?"

Kyle's eyes have drifted down again and Alex is having trouble parsing the look on his face in the soft glow of the Airstream's faerie lights. He can't quite decide if Kyle is quietly scandalized to see them like this in Michael's truck and that's why he seems distracted, or if he's trying really hard to just ignore their current state of entanglement and failing, or what. He's sure Michael's being a little shit about it since he knows Alex can't see his face, but at least his hand has stopped moving – for the moment. 

"What's the matter, Valenti? See something you like?" Alex can feel as much as hear the smug drawl in Michael's tone.

The suggestiveness of that question finally breaks Kyle out of his stupor, and he shifts from foot to foot, kicking at pebbles in the dirt. 

"What? No!" He blusters, running a hand through his hair and generally looking anywhere now but directly at the two men in the truck bed. "I just came by to—Isobel keeps getting these migraines cuz – and I told her if she'd just eat more often—" his hands are flying around as he gestures wildly in response to his own rambling, "— being cooped up in that cave all day isn't a—but does she listen to me? Of course not. So, I was gonna drop off some more—she says you have always a stash on-hand, and um, yeah..." He finally trails off, looking no less flustered than he did a minute ago. 

"Wow, that sure was eloquent, Doc. No wonder you're such a hit with the ladies."

"Fuck you, Guerin."

"Thanks for the offer, but Alex just did and I'm all worn out now."

Alex chokes on his own air. He feels Michael rub his leg again. Yeah, like _that's_ going to help him calm down.

Kyle's eyebrows shoot up and he looks about two seconds away from bolting, but then he gets distracted by Alex hacking up a lung a second later, which then leads to him kind of craning his neck to squint down at the corrugated metal of the truck bed so he doesn't have to get any closer. If Alex weren't trying so hard to cough quietly to get his lungs back to breathing in air instead of his own saliva, he'd say that Curiosity would be about ready to pounce on the cat standing opposite them.

"How is that even comfortable?" he asks, and Alex silently congratulates himself on guessing correctly.

Michael scoffs at the question. "You guys didn't actually think I was sleeping directly on the truck bed in high school, did you?"

Kyle shrugs. 

Alex has regained proper use of his larynx at this point and croaks out, "Well, kind of, yeah." He thinks back to that fateful day when he came in search of his guitar that Michael had ~~stolen~~ borrowed from the music room. "All I saw was your sleeping bag and your backpack."

Michael nods against his chest, non-plussed. "Go ahead and answer the good doctor's question, Alex," he replies conversationally.

Kyle looks back at Alex, who takes stock of what he's sitting on and realizes for the first time tonight that he's been totally comfy this whole time. Sure, his butt is starting to fall asleep now from sitting in one position for so long and with Michael's torso weighing him down, but in looking at the rest of the truck bed's surface, how can that be? "Um, it just... is?" He looks down at Michael's curls like they have the answer. "Michael, are we lying on a board or something and I just didn't notice?"

"Nope."

"Then what—"

"Kyle, you know about our mutant powers by now, right?" At Kyle's nod to that rhetorical question, Michael continues, "Max is Storm, Isobel is Jean Grey, and I'm Scarlet Witch."

Kyle smiles in complete understanding like the giant dork he is. 

Alex hides a chuckle behind Michael's curls. A few moments later, however, he remembers something that contradicts what Michael just said. "Wait, didn't Kyle call you Magneto when we were at Caulfield?"

Michael flinches minutely at the mention of that name but otherwise responds casually, "Yeah, he did, but that's because he didn't know the full extent of what I can do with my telekinesis."

Kyle actually looks impressed by whatever this Scarlet Witch can do. Alex is stumped. "Wait, what'd I miss?"

"Alex was a DC kid. I know, I know," Kyle acknowledges Michael's sudden gasp as if this were some horrible fate. "I tried to show him what real comics looked like, but you know how stubborn he is."

"Do I ever," Michael agreed with a small shake of his head. "So sad."

Alex rolls his eyes. "Guys, hello? Sitting right here," he waves a hand between them. "So sorry I don't speak Marvel."

Kyle scoffs. "No, you're not ya big Batman snob," he says with a knowing smirk. 

"Ok, no, I'm not," Alex smirks back. "But that's beside the point."

Michael stage whispers to Kyle, "Alex likes keeping me on point."

For a split second, Kyle gets that same panicked look in his eyes from earlier where he fears Michael is going to say something else dirty before Alex takes pity on him and says, "So, what you're saying, then, Guerin, is that you're using your telekinesis to, what— are you levitating me right now or something?"

"Well, technically speaking, everything levitates all the time. Nothing ever really touches anything else."

Alex's cock twitches in excitement where it's caught underneath Michael's right thigh. He can't help it. He has an intelligence kink when it comes to Michael, and every time he says something super smart and scientific like that without sounding all self-important, Alex gets turned on. Thankfully, they're both under the blanket where no one can see it. Unfortunately for Alex, however, even if Kyle can't see anything, Michael can definitely feel it, and his leg twitches in response. 

"Like that little factoid, did we?" he practically purrs. 

Alex scrabbles ineffectually at the blanket, wanting to pull it up over his head so he can hide from this entire ridiculous situation, but he can't because it's tucked underneath Michael's right arm. 

And that's when Kyle finally takes in the whole picture in front of him. Alex watches it wash over him like a barrel rider going over Niagara Falls.

"Wait, are you guys actually..." he gets stuck on what Alex presumes to be the last word in his question.

Michael tips his head up slightly to address Alex in another stage whisper voice, "Didn't you say that he graduated top of his class from med school?"

When Alex mutely nods, Michael turns back to Kyle to ask cheekily, "Was this an _accredited_ univershhdd—" but Alex doesn't let him finish, placing a hand over his mouth and regarding Kyle with as much dignity as he can muster.

"What Guerin meant to say is, yes. Acetone is what you need, right? I'm sure we have some and then you can get back to Isobel, I'm sure she'll be happy to see you."

Kyle is trying his best not to gawk at what Alex is sure looks very odd from his vantage point as Michael "I Have No Shame Whatsofuckingever" Guerin licks and nips at the inside of Alex's palm where it's still trying to keep him quiet. "Uh, um *ahem* yes, yeah."

No sooner than those words leave Kyle's mouth do three bottles of acetone come flying out of the workshop like projectiles headed straight for Kyle's head. He manages to dodge the first couple because of the way they catch the light on their wide sides but the third one smacks him right in the solar plexus when he makes the mistake of standing upright again. 

"Fucking hell, Guerin!" Kyle grumbles from below the edge of the tailgate where he's curled around his stomach on the ground. "What'd you do that for?"

Alex and Michael both sit up in shock to look past the end of the truck as Kyle takes a few deep breaths before sitting up to brush dirt off his arms and legs.

"Fuck! I'm so sorry. Are you okay, Valenti?" Michael sounds genuinely concerned, and Alex knows he means it. He's pretty sure that Kyle knows, too, as the expression on his face softens somewhat from anger to confusion.

"Yeah, man. Just knocked the wind out of me. A little warning might have been nice. I was a quarterback in high school, you know. I threw the balls, I didn't catch them."

Alex can see the snark coming from a mile away and pokes Michael in the ribs before he can open his big fat mouth. He glares at his boyfriend when he looks over with his best "what'd I do?" innocent alien act and jerks his head in Kyle's direction. Michael pouts for about two seconds before doing the mature thing and apologizing in long format.

"Um, in all seriousness, I really don't know what happened. I normally just float things over to people. And by people, I mean Liz, mostly, when we're working in the lab. Sometimes Alex. Right?" he looks over at Alex for confirmation. Alex nods, looking more worried than anything else. 

This is not good. The last thing they need is for Michael's powers to start going haywire. "What were you thinking about this time when you used your powers?"

Michael gives him a look and Alex blushes, but then his expression turns thoughtful. "I just thought about where I keep the acetone and then moved them with my mind to give them to Kyle. It's like any other thought-to-action process that the neurons in your brain carry out all day every day. I think it and it happens. If I'm changing the molecular structure of something, then I have to think harder about it because molecular structures are complex and complicated but it's still just muscle memory." He frowns at what he's just said. "Well, obviously there's something else going on in my brain that doesn't go on in yours, but that's the gist of it." 

Kyle has risen to his feet by now and collected the three bottles of acetone. He finishes brushing himself off and regards Michael with a look that says he mostly believes him but he's also kind of done being here.

Alex can tell that Michael doesn't blame him. He looks a little distraught, actually, and Alex thinks he can understand why. Michael loves using his powers. Way more than Max or Isobel ever have from what Alex has gleaned from conversations with Liz and Michael himself. They're his link to his home, like a security blanket, and having to pretend that he can't do these magical things for all these years has to have been really hard on the guy. Like hiding away a part of himself that leaves him feeling less than himself. 

Alex can hard-core relate to that feeling.

"Ok, well, I'm just gonna... go. Thanks um, for the acetone. Later, Alex," Kyle says in a odd tone of voice, like he's still trying to reconcile seeing the boy he used to bully for liking other boys with the man he's trying to befriend again all cozied up to his boyfriend in the back of an old truck.

Alex stutters out a reply, "C-c-cool, yeah. Later, Kyle." Ok, so maybe he's going to need to buy him several drinks.

Alex has just pulled Michael back down so they can watch the stars come out before going inside for dinner since it is getting dark so early when he hears his phone beep with an incoming text. Michael sits up to find his phone and hands it over before snuggling back into his chest.

_We should meet up soon..._

Another one pops up before Alex can reply.

_btw, happy is a good look on you._

Alex smiles and sighs in relief. 

_Yeah, for sure. I owe you a drink or three._

_thanks, Kyle. Means a lot._


	4. I Am Weightless in the Undercurrent of Your Love

"Take it back!"

"Never!"

"Take it back, Cowboy."

"Make me, Private."

Alex doesn't give Michael a chance to say anything else and pounces too fast for his boyfriend to react. A mere five seconds later Michael's lying face down on the tiny Airstream mattress, his sketchpad and Alex's book askew on the floor; Alex is expertly pinning him down in a half Nelson. 

"Done. Are you ready to say Uncle?"

Michael says a few choice words into the pillow where his face is being smushed. 

Alex laughs but doesn't relax his grip. "Now, now, Guerin, no one likes a sore loser," his voice might sound the tiniest bit smug but that's okay, he knows Michael can take it. 

Or maybe not. 

Next thing Alex knows, he's twitching and twisting away from invisible hands that know where all of his ticklish spots are and he's giggling too hard to maintain his hold on Michael's neck and outstretched arm. He falls over onto the bed and tries to curl up into a defensive fetal position as if that will somehow ward off the magical intruders tingling their way over the exposed skin of his arms and lower back where his shirt has ridden up. It doesn't work but Michael finally relents from where he's now standing in front of the bed once he notices that Alex is laughing too hard to breathe in any more oxygen.

"Ow, fuck!"

Alex smirks after sitting up to give Michael a dead arm in retaliation before falling back onto the mattress with a thud as he pulls in as much air as his now-aching abdominal muscles will allow. "Why ya gotta *wheeze* be such a *wheeze* cheater, _Michael_?"

Apparently, it's Michael's turn to look smug because he gently runs a hand over Alex's forehead, smoothing his hair off to one side as he points at his own chest with his other hand and crows, "Alien! Who says I have to play by your petty human rules?"

Alex's eyebrows shoot up in delighted challenge. "Oh, them's fightin' words. I'll show you petty!" He laughs as he unfurls his limbs to hook the stump of his right leg around the back of Michael's left knee and pulls, wrestling Michael down to the bed, arms and legs flying everywhere as Alex gets his revenge tickling the very breath out of Michael.

*giggle* "Take it back!"

*gasp* "Never!"

There's really nowhere to go on the twin-sized bed so they kind of just rock back and forth as they fight to see who can tickle whom more. Alex discovers that Michael's telekinesis goes on the fritz if he can't concentrate, so every time Alex feels that tingly sensation trying to sneak over to one of his ticklish spots, he distracts Michael with a quick kiss to the nearest patch of skin he can reach. After a few minutes, Alex sees an opportunity to gain some leverage and the second that Michael's distracted, Alex strikes, pinning Michael's back to the foot of the mattress by holding both of his hands out over his head at the wrist, half-straddling him, half-resting his left leg on the bed.

"Take back what you said about _Jump Down Man_ being a better band than _Danger! At the Picture Show_!" Alex tries to demand with a stern face but his composure keeps cracking because Michael is so very distracting when he's all flushed and panting and giggling up at Alex, his beautiful curls spread out in a halo around his head, those lips just beg—

"Oh, he's definitely got you there, Michael. _Danger! At the Picture Show_ is totally the better band. And their lead singer is hot like burning," comes a feminine voice from behind them, somehow conveying boredom and interest simultaneously. 

Alex doesn't get a chance to contemplate that dichotomy, however, because they both startle at the unexpected intrusion. Michael's reaction is very different from Alex's: contrary to the previous occasion whereupon Isobel had shown up unannounced at the Airstream with bagels, this time Alex doesn't freak out. Or, well, he doesn't get a chance to because Michael beats him to it.

Quick as a whip, Michael launches himself off the small mattress upending Alex in the process; but he doesn't get thrown into the wall of the caravan like he thinks he's going to as tingly arms gently deposit him onto the bed. Michael puts as much physical distance between himself and Alex as the Airstream will spare, which is about four feet. It feels more like fifty feet to Alex, though. 

Michael looks like a deer caught in headlights, only his wide, panicked eyes darting back and forth between Isobel and Alex. "Iz! What um, what a nice—" he runs a hand through his hot mess of curls as he stutters out a greeting, "—uh, how, how long you been uh standing there?"

Alex's brow furrows as he tries to interpret Michael's body language. He glances over to gauge Isobel's reaction but she looks non-plussed. Alex looks back at Michael who's still looking shifty but now trying to smooth down his rucked-up shirt and tuck it into his pants in quick jerky movements, almost as if he were trying to make himself look more presentable for—

Isobel sighs loudly, attracting Alex's attention once more and he turns his head in time to see her rolling her eyes as she leans against the edge of the counter behind her next to the doorway, her perfectly coiffed hair slipping over her shoulder as she does so. "Long enough to see that you just got owned by your boyfriend. Maybe a few more reps at the gym and a few less beers would do you some good."

Michael's face goes pale and slack at Isobel's use of the word "boyfriend".

Wait, what? One of Alex's eyebrows rises of its own accord in confusion as the tennis match continues and he looks back at said boyfriend. Is Michael... embarrassed? No, that can't be right. He'd had zero fucks to give last night when Kyle found them spooning naked under a blanket in the back of his truck. Alex turns to consider Isobel again and the movement attracts her attention.

She smiles at him but Alex gets the distinct impression that he's being weighed and measured. He knows how important Isobel is to Michael – especially with Max 'on ice' in his pod right now – so he puts on his most confident face and smiles back.

"You must be Alex."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, and so polite!" Isobel looks over at Michael, a more genuine smile flashing across her flawless makeup.

"Iz," Michael drags out the vowel sound in her nickname in a whiny tone only a sibling can provoke. "You've known Alex since high school."

Isobel's smile turns brittle and her eyes take on a hard edge as she turns back to address Alex. "Yes, well, you'll have to excuse me, I was a bit of a bitch back then and don't quite remember you, seeing as how I spent most of my time being mentally hijacked by my future secretly-an-alien-too-but-didn't-deign-to-tell-me husband."

Alex raises an eyebrow at this very telling admission but says nothing. Oh, she is a fighter. He admires her already. So much anger, so deftly channeled. If there's one thing Alex understands, it is anger directed at someone who was supposed to be a pillar of support in your life but who ends up trying to crush you under their mania instead.

Neatly sidestepping the alien-shaped elephant in the room, Michael scoffs and his foot-in-mouth syndrome makes an untimely appearance. "A bit?"

Alex whips his head around. "Guerin!"

Michael has the good sense to look sheepish at his outburst and repentant in the face of Alex's admonishment, even flinching a tiny bit at the sound of reproach in his voice.

"Ooh, I like him. He doesn't take any of your shit, does he?"

How Michael manages to look fond, proud, and nervous all at the same time as he quickly regards him before turning away is beyond Alex but he finally pins down the answer to his question about Michael's behavior: he's bashful in front of Isobel who for all intents and purposes is his sister. A big sister, most likely. Someone Michael has always looked up to, but knowing as Alex does the indirect way Michael has with words, he's probably never expressed his admiration for her in a way she'd be likely to notice. Hence the waffling.

"Not so much, no," Michael says quietly, not quite able to stop the blush creeping up the sides of his neck. 

Alex feels for him. This was probably not the setting or circumstances Michael had in mind for when he introduced Alex to his family as his boyfriend. On the bright side, it looks like she already knew about their relationship, and she's teasing Michael, so that's good, right? Trying to be the supportive boyfriend he's always longed to be, he rearranges himself in to more of a sitting position under the windowsill of the Airstream, casually hiding his right leg from view as he folds his legs Indian style, and silently holds out a hand in invitation.

Michael looks like a skittish colt until he locks eyes with Alex and they share a moment. Alex pours all the love and support he can into his gaze, silently coaxing Michael down to sit next to him with a small flexing of the tips of his fingers and one of his soft smiles, the kind he reserves for Michael these days. And fries dipped in his milkshake at the Crashdown. But mostly Michael.

Alex is hyperaware that Isobel is watching him like a hawk, assessing, and given their tumultuous past and gnarly recent events, he doesn't blame her one iota. He is, however, fully determined to win as many brownie points with her during this first impression as he possibly can so that he can eventually earn her trust on his own merit. He just wants to belong somewhere, with someone. Michael gently squeezing his hand in thanks as he settles in, leaning into him a little bit for comfort tells him he's found his family and gives him the strength to break the slightly awkward silence.

"Would you like something to drink?" Alex asks politely for want of a better topic to break the ice. "Some more acetone perhaps?"

The considering look Isobel favors Alex informs him that she is surprised and maybe even a little impressed by the way Alex comports himself in Michael's caravan like this space is also his. Well, he's certainly lugged enough of his stuff over here and spent enough time down in the bunker over the past ten days, he thinks wryly, that it's starting to feel like his space in a more physical way, too.

She smirks at the acetone comment. "Unlike your man here, I'm not quite desperate enough to turn to day-drinking just yet. A woman's got to have her standards, you know," she says primly as she takes a seat at the teeny tiny kitchen table, stretching out her long legs clad in dark-wash jeans and a smart-looking black jacket, a fluffy burgundy scarf spilling out of the V-neck. She looks like a million bucks even though her entire world has just crumbled around her. Alex may not be attracted to women, but that doesn't stop him from being slightly in awe of them. _Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned_ is starting to take on new meaning for him.

"Hey!" Michael chirps indignantly.

Alex squeezes Michael's hand in support, half-hiding the smirk that sneaks onto his face. 

"I think you broke Kyle," Isobel says, apropos of nothing.

"He said he was fine!" Michael retorts hotly. "I said I was sorry, what more does he want me to do? Kiss it and make it better? I didn't realize the bottles were going to fly at him so fast!" He has a pained look on his face as he glances between Alex and Isobel, almost like he's begging with his eyes for Alex to back him up.

"Whoa whoa, calm down, Michael," Isobel says, hand held out in a placating gesture at the same time that Alex reaches across his body to rub his free hand up and down Michael's arm.

"That's not what I meant," she explains. "Although that would have been a cool sight to see," she looks over at Alex for confirmation, her eyes alight with mischief.

"Like a scene out of _The Matrix_ ," Alex chuckles, "except that instead of bullets, "Neo" was dodging bottles of acetone and the third one clocked him right in the gut."

"Shoulda aimed a little bit lower," Michael grumbles from Alex's side.

Isobel smiles at Michael's petulance like it's an ingrained habit and continues. "I think you broke Kyle because practically from the moment he arrived at the cave, he was rambling on about the weirdest things. He's normally much more subdued and in control, you know? Doctor chill. Kyle had no chill last night."

"What was he going on about?" Alex asks, a little concerned. Kyle had seemed okay-ish as he made his way out of the junkyard last night, hadn't he? And he had sent those two texts that still made Alex smile when he looked at them. They're on the mend, and Alex feels comforted by that fact.

Isobel flicks some invisible lint from her jeans with perfectly done nails that Alex has just realized are painted to match the burgundy color of her scarf. Boss. He idly wonders if she'd paint his nails sometime.

"Well, let's see," she starts counting on her fingers, "He did, of course, start with Michael hurling acetone at his head, which was pretty funny because his arms were all flaily, but then there was some sputtering and turning red at how he found you guys in the first place when he pulled into the junkyard yesterday afternoon—"

Alex immediately feels Michael tense up at his side. He pulls Michael's hand into his lap to change which hand is holding the alien's so that Alex's nearer hand is now free to run his fingers gently through the curls at the base of his boyfriend's neck in an effort to calm him down.

If Isobel notices this new tension in her brother, she doesn't let on, continuing her list while she inspects her cuticles, "—and then he started throwing out random names from some cartoon or whatever, I think it was the X-Men? Because he mentioned Jean Grey, and I remember you telling me one time that she was a telepath or something and that piqued my interest and then I saw the movie and she was really pretty and I even tried to copy a couple of the things she could do but Max caught me and got all huffy," she rolls her eyes again, "so I didn't try again cuz he's so annoying when he thinks neither of us is listening to him, but anyway, I told Kyle I knew who he was talking about, which got me a surprised but impressed look." She pulls a nail file out of her purse and starts running it expertly around the underside of the tips of her fingernails, "I was like okay, dude, whatever, I have a headache, gimme the acetone, and plucked them out of his arms and sailed them across the cave to where I've set up my little spot near Max's pod where he can hear me, two for later and one to sip on. Well, I mean, he can't hear me. I didn't hear him, but it's the gesture that counts. And then do you know what he did?" she asks, wildly gesticulating with the nail file, eyes still fixed on her nails. 

Alex has a feeling this is a rhetorical question. If Isobel is anything like Liz or Maria, she could go on for half-an-hour without needing more input from Alex or Michael than interested nods and raised eyebrows at the appropriate times.

"He started flipping out on me, pacing back and forth in front of me with more flail arms as he threw out more geek words as he occasionally gestured at me, saying that he thought I was supposed to be the psychic and that you were supposed to be the Jedi," Isobel finally looks up to point her nail file at Michael in reference to Kyle's rant but she comes up short when their eyes meet.

Only then does Alex realize that Michael has gone preternaturally still. Alex has actually gotten sort of caught up in the narrative Isobel's weaving. Things have been so hectic lately what with Liz taking care of Rosa and Maria being out of the alien loop and... everything else, that Alex has missed being around his female friends. Their way of being is different from guys; they just make him feel cozy and included, and they're so good at talking and Alex kinda sucks at it. So, obviously he's missed something important here that has startled Michael.

Alex nudges his beau, "Michael, what's wrong?" he asks softly.


	5. Open the Treasure Chest and Peer Inside

“Michael?” Alex asks again, brow furrowed with worry as he brushes a stray curl off Michael’s forehead when the other man doesn’t respond.

Suddenly, the pencil from Michael’s sketchbook comes shooting across the Airstream, eraser first, and Alex has a split second to notice its trajectory is aimed directly at Isobel’s forehead and he’s about to duck out of sheer instinct when the pencil abruptly slams into an invisible wall a scant two inches from her face and bounces harmlessly onto the floor, rolling down into the stairwell. 

Alex is confused. “What the f—“

“How long have you been able to do that,” Michael talks over Alex, his voice low and wary. It’s not so much a question as it is an accusation. The hand still holding Alex’s tightens reflexively in his lap. Alex starts stroking the back of Michael’s neck again.

The airman sends an anxious glance over to Isobel. “Do what?”

Her face is impassive as she ignores Alex to reply, “only a few days, maybe a week. What?” She appears to be more annoyed by the way Michael is addressing her than by his throwing something at her using his telekinesis, which Alex doesn’t quite understand. Maybe it’s an alien sibling rivalry thing. 

“Were you planning on telling us anytime soon about the new power you seem to have developed overnight?”

Oh. 

_Oh._

Michael didn’t stop the pencil. Isobel did. 

Dayum.

Isobel looks about as close to sheepish as Alex would surmise she gets. He has a feeling she doesn’t let people cow her in conversation very often, Michael being a rare exception. “Well, I sort of already told Kyle, or well, showed him, y’know, that’s the part of his flail!speech where he mentions psychics and Jedis.”

She turns to regard Alex like she’s just remembered he’s in the room, even though he’s half-wrapped around her brother like a smitten octopus. “I thought Jedis _were_ psychics?”

Even wading through all this sudden tension and confusion, Alex can’t help but grin. “They are!” He likes her even more now. The satisfied smile she returns tells him that she knows more about pop culture than she might otherwise let on.

Michael finally breaks out of statue-mode and turns to look into Alex’s eyes, seeking comfort if the anxious glint in those beautiful hazel eyes is anything to go by. 

An unexpected positive side effect of Michael and Alex working on their verbal communication skills recently is that their nonverbal communication skills seem to have come along for the ride. They have a silent conversation now, Alex asking Michael if he wants to tell Isobel about the constellation of stars on his back with meaningful glances at Michael’s shoulder, heart, and abdomen, one expressive eyebrow raised in query; Michael looking into Alex’s eyes for strength, finding all the love Alex feels for him there, and squeezing his hand as a decision is made. 

Michael raises their joint hands to his lips, pressing a quiet kiss to Alex’s knuckles in thanks, before placing them in his own lap and regarding a curiously attentive Isobel. Alex has to rein in the urge to smirk or chuckle at the sight because knowing Michael, this is probably the most honest display of emotion he’s ever shown Isobel in the presence of someone he likes.

Loves.

Alex bites down on his lips to keep from smiling at that thought, no, that FACT, and attempts to school his face. But he’s grinning like a lovesick fool on the inside. 

He can feel as much as hear Michael take a deep steadying breath right before he jumps into the abyss. “What do you know about this symbol?”

His sketchbook obediently pops up off the floor and opens to the page where Michael had been doodling before the tickle war had broken out when he’d made an offhand comment about Alex’s favorite band and the proverbial gloves had come off. 

Isobel looks down at the sketchbook and Alex acknowledges the instant recognition in her intelligent gaze. “That’s the symbol you used to draw obsessively on any surface you could get your hands on with a marker at the group home,” she replies before adding with a smirk, “including the attendants’ aprons when they fell asleep on duty.”

Michael can’t help his own smirk, prompted by that memory. “Yeah, well, kept ‘em from falling asleep as often, didn’t it?”

Alex does chuckle at the imagery that flashes across his mind’s eye. “I bet you were a handful.”

“More like a terror,” Isobel interjects with a good-natured roll of her eyes before Michael can open his big mouth. “You should have seen how—“

The sketchbook floats higher up between the two parties, blocking their line of sight for Michael to make his point, and shakes a little bit for emphasis. “Focus, Iz. You guys can meet up for mani-pedis and besmirch my good name all you want, I don’t care, but do it later.” The sketchbook floats back down to land in Isobel’s lap.

Alex’s eyes light up at the suggestion and he can see Isobel’s blue eyes sparkle when she looks at him.

“There’s this new place I’ve been wanting to try for a while, but, you know,” she gesticulates broadly with one hand, her voice going stage-whisper soft, “been a little busy lately trying not to die at the hands of my lying cheating body-snatching bastard of an alien ex-husband,” her voice dripping with venom, “not to mention my idiot brother who sacrificed himself for his crush’s sister who’s been in cryo inside creepy ex-husband’s pod for the last ten years,” she glances down at her nails once more before looking up with a more relaxed smile on her face, “but anyways, yeah, we should totally go!”

Oh, Alex wouldn’t miss a chance to hear stories about Michael when he was a little kid in a million years, but the question he opens his mouth to ask about where this new salon is located withers on his tongue at the daggers he feels shooting from his loving boyfriend’s eyes, so he sheepishly nods instead and says quietly, “that’d be great, thanks.”

Wow, Michael is on a roll today with being Mr. Bossypants. Hmmm, Alex likes the way that sounds...

“Ugh, why you gotta be so bossy, _Michael_?” Isobel whines as she looks back down at the drawings. Then she looks right back up at Alex from under her lashes with what he can only label as a naughty look, which is then confirmed by the following question, “is he always this bossy?” Her tone is conspiratorial but her eyes are what make Alex blush when they glance over his shoulder at the pillows on Michael’s bed before sliding back over to wink at Alex. 

Alex is in the midst of his best codfish impression when Isobel finally takes pity on him, says “I see,” with a devilish smile, and switches her attention for good back to the symbols drawn in various sizes, intensities, and detail. 

There’s movement beside him and Michael’s curls pop into view as Michael rests his head on Alex’s shoulder, which naturally encourages Alex to slide his hand down from his boyfriend’s neck to wrap around his waist. Michael exhales loudly and Alex can relate. They are going to be exhausted by the time Isobel leaves the Airstream.

“We weren’t speaking yet, but it felt like you were trying to get something off your chest by repeatedly drawing these shapes because you got better at it the more you drew them and you started taking your time to make them more detailed,” she points at one in the corner of the page, “like this one here.” She turns the sketchbook around and holds it out for Alex and Michael to see. 

Alex’s throat goes dry at the symbol she’s pointing to. It has the same level of detail and placement as the larger symbol Michael had drawn on that sheet of paper in the bunker. As the one Alex had formed when he connected the dots of the beauty marks on Michael’s back. If that symbol is the more refined one, the one closer to the symbol etched into Michael’s brain that he’s been drawing from memory ever since he hatched from his pod — whoa, that _is_ a strange thing to think — then what if- what if it’s some kind of- 

“Can I see your phone, Private?”

Alex is torn from his thoughts by the sound of Michael’s voice reverberating into his neck and shoulder. He has to think for a moment where he last saw his phone... When he’d come home today, he’d emptied his pockets on to the tiny little shelf the bed makes where the headboard meets the back wall of the caravan. “Uh, yeah, sure. It’s above the headboard.”

Only a moment passes after the last word has left Alex’s mouth before several things happen in quick succession: there’s a rattling sound, a whoosh of air past Alex’s ear, and the sight of Isobel ducking as Alex’s phone shoots past him. It would have brained her if she hadn’t deftly moved out of the way. Alex’s brain expects to hear the crash of glass in the next instant, or at least the shattering of his poor phone against the metal frame of the caravan, but neither sound is forthcoming.

“Shit! Sorry, Iz, are you okay?” Is what Alex hears instead.

“What the hell, Michael!?” 

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t trying to- I don’t know how that- arggggh, this is what happened yesterday with Kyle and the acetone!” 

Isobel is currently righting herself in the chair, fixing her hair and scarf and glaring at her little brother who’s finally taken his own turn to look sheepish. 

Alex feels a little guilty for worrying more about his phone than Isobel’s ruffled feathers, but he can see that she’s alright. What he can’t see is his phone but he doesn’t dare move right now and risk attracting her attention when she’s mad. 

It’s a lesson in futility because Isobel notices where his eyes are focused anyway and turns around to look behind her. She picks Alex’s phone up off the dashboard at the head of the Airstream and twists back around to quietly hand it over to Alex, who nods his thanks, ignoring the hand that Michael briefly holds out. The withering glare she directs at him causes an immediate retraction of said limb and an awkward silence to descend on the darkening room. 

Alex belatedly notices that night has fallen while they’ve been talking. He reaches forward to flip the interior light on and then readjusts his legs, needing to stretch them out after sitting in one position for so long. He realizes that he doesn’t even mind if she sees his prosthetic at this point, which is kind of a big deal, but one he’ll have to dwell on later. 

His phone doesn’t seem to be any worse for wear so that’s a plus. Michael must have regained control at the last second. Alex clears his throat and offers, “still in one piece,” into the silence. He nudges a shell-shocked Michael with his shoulder, holding the phone out for the other man to take. “Thanks, cuz I like this phone.”

The look on Michael’s face when their eyes meet makes Alex’s heart clench and as much fun as he’s had getting to know Isobel today, he suddenly wishes she weren’t here so that he could kiss and hug the haunted look from his boyfriend’s face. 

“It’ll be okay, Cowboy,” he soothes, placing his phone in Michael’s lap when the alien makes no move to take it. “We’ll figure this out.” He twines one of their hands together and rubs small circles into the skin with his thumb. “But maybe it’d be best if we all tried to stay calm when using powers both old and new in the meantime, yeah?”

Alex turns to see if Isobel’s recovered her bosslady chill. The cool, introspective look she gives him confirms that she has. 

“You saying that his powers have been going haywire when he’s not calm?”

Alex nods. “Well, I’ve only been privy to seeing them in action for a short time but yes, very recently, um,” he glances at Michael, silently asking for permission. At his love’s quiet nod, Alex squeezes his hand and continues, “he and I have noticed that strange things have been happening,” Alex gestures broadly the way Isobel had earlier, “when Michael is stressed and uses his telekinesis.”

“Okay, but what’s triggering this power surge?”

“We don’t know,” Alex admits on a sigh. He’s suddenly feeling completely wiped out. Maybe they should sleep on it, let their subconscious do some of the heavy lifting for a few hours and see what percolates. “It hasn’t happened enough times for us to determine a pattern.”

Michael has been quiet this whole time but he hasn’t been stationary. Alex sees him scrolling through Alex’s Camera Roll in his peripheral vision. A few seconds later, he slides the phone over into Alex’s lap. 

“But we do know that the power surge didn’t start until after,” Alex looks at Michael to make sure that’s accurate, who nods affirmatively, “I happened to discover this a couple days ago.”

He hands Isobel the phone. 

She gasps at the photo Alex took of the same symbol Michael has been drawing since they were found in the desert, stretched across his back.

“Oh, Michael. You’ve been carrying it around with you this whole time and didn’t know it?” She looks up at him and they share a moment.

“Maybe _you’re_ the beacon?”


	6. Light up My Life from the Inside Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my bestie annunziatina (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵), who encouraged me to just keep swimming while I hemmed and hawed over this chapter and its inevitable turn towards geeky fluffy silliness.
> 
> Please enjoy some AlienScience!Bros and if you're curious about the book that is referenced in the chapter, I posted a link to it in the End Notes. And as always, all characters, quotes, and pop culture references belong to their respective creators.
> 
> I'm going to let this story rest for now, I think it's reached a good stopping point. I'm excited to see where they go with the alien science on the show so I might come back and add more once the season starts, or if I get another brain wave aka plot bunny that demands tribute ;).
> 
> Thanks to everyone who showed interest in what was supposed to be just a little sci-fi one-shot. I was tickled pink by the support <333.

"Honey, I'm home!" Alex calls out in a sing-song voice the following evening as he prepares to climb downstairs to deliver their dinner. It's Tardigrade Taco Tuesday at the Crashdown and Arturo makes the BEST _carne asada_ tacos this side of the Rio Grande. Alex places the big paper bag on the floating tray that rises up to fill the opening of the hatch so that he has both hands free to climb down the ladder. (It took a week or so to really get the hang of it with his prosthetic but he's figured out a simple system whereby he tries not to fall off the ladder and Michael catches him with his TK if he does. They've only had to test it out once so far so yay Alex.) He then snatches the bag off the tray once he's inside the bunker and walks over to see what the two genius mad scientists in his life have been doing all day.

"Sweetiekins!" Michael exclaims with open arms as soon as he sees Alex, ignoring the snorting laughter coming from Liz across the glowing research table. Her eyes are glued to the food in the bag and makes grabby hands at it when he gets within range. Alex drops the bag on her side of the table so that he can walk around to Michael's side and be welcomed home properly.

Michael pulls him in for a luscious kiss hello and Alex can't help sighing into his mouth, right hand sliding into his curls on autopilot. He's just so damn lucky to have him back in his life, he often feels the urge to pinch himself just to make sure he's not dreaming. The kiss is not a drawn-out affair because Alex has just brought him food after all and that is not something to be ignored, however lovely and distracting Alex may be; but also because Michael is currently vibrating like a tuning fork with pent-up energy so keeping his mouth closed for more than a few seconds just sets one of his limbs a-tappin' and Alex has always found that to be highly amusing.

"Geez, Liz, did you let him have sugar again?" Alex mock-whines as he pulls out Michael's food and almost gets his arm yanked out of its socket when his boyfriend grabs the box he's still holding before he can place it on the table. "You do that to me on purpose, don't you? Don't look at me with those innocent doe eyes, that only works on Max," Alex continues, undeterred by the way his childhood friend tries to escape blame by shoving more taco into her mouth and shrugging at him like she doesn't know what he's talking about. "You don't know what I have to deal with after you leave," he tries to sound put-upon as he takes his seat next to Michael, opens up his own box, and leans down to breathe in the delicious aroma of meat and spices. 

"Oh," Michael snarks around a mouthful of taco, having already devoured half of it. "I'm sure she can think of a few things..."

"Ugh, were you born in a barn, Cowboy? Swallow first, then talk."

Michael dutifully finishes chewing his food before responding casually, "no, I was hatched. In a pod." Then he turns his head to flick a sly look from under his curls that slides up from Alex's mouth up to his eyes, "oh, so that rule applies here, too, Private? Good to know."

Alex, who has just taken his first bite of _carne asada_ taco, almost snorts taco-shell out through his nose at the cheeky reply and shoves Michael with his shoulder as he multitasks rolling his eyes and chewing his food enough to swallow before he chokes. 

" _Ay dios,_ you two are ridiculous," Liz laughs once she's polished off the first of her tacos.

"No," Michael retorts with a toss of his head towards Alex, "He's ridiculous. I'm incorrigible."

The way he says it with such pride catches Alex off guard and he hunches over in a sudden fit of barely-audible laughter, almost falling off his stool.

Michael just grins at him as he goes back to eating his second taco. 

Liz shakes her head in amusement and tucks into her other taco as well.

The only downside to Arturo's tacos is how quickly they disappear into everyone's stomachs. Alex clears the compostable food containers off the table and cuts right to the chase.

"So? Do you two evil geniuses know yet why Michael has a, um," he gesticulates in big broad circular motions with his right hand over Michael's denim-covered shoulders, "for lack of a better term, 'constellation' on his back?" His fingers alight on his boyfriend's back and sneak up under the shirt to continue their circular pattern, fingers scritching softly against alien-warm skin. 

Michael startles at the touch, likely because Alex's skin always feels colder in comparison. Alex makes a soft cooing sound in apology but continues in a figure-eight pattern, his fingers quickly soaking up the heat. If Michael were a cat, he'd be purring right now if the contented look on his face is any indication.

"Nope!" the other man replies on a sigh, popping the "p" sound. "Not a clue."

"We spent the day reading comics," Liz adds cheerily.

Alex just raises an expressive eyebrow in question as he notices for the first time that the far part of the table is strewn about with colorful comic books in and out of their protective sleeves. The pads of his fingers rise up as far as they can reach where the shirt is stretched across Michael's shoulder blades to run over the hills and valleys of sumptuously smooth skin. His left hand is starting to feel really cold in his lap. 

"And we've determined that Michael pretty much really is Scarlet Witch," her brows furrow as she considers something and turns to address the alien in question, "Wizard? Warlock? Witches are traditionally women. I mean, unless you want to be a witch, of course."

Michael's eyes light up. "Ooh, can I be a wizard?! Like Merlin from the Disney movie _The Sword in the Stone_?" He looks excitedly at Alex. "How'd you like to be dating a wizard, babe?"

Alex's right hand presses flat against Michael's back and slides down to settle around his waist just above his belt. "I'm already dating an alien, that's way cooler than any wizard." He leans over to peck an adorable, lightly blushing Michael on the lips. "Besides, aren't wizards always old and crinkly like Gandalf or something?"

"Alex! Don't be ageist, that's mean."

"Yeah, Manes. He even plays for your team. For shame," Liz teases.

"I'm not! Ok, yes, I know that's how it came out— but you guys know I'd never— what I meant was – you know what, that's beside the point!" Alex blusters and then Liz's words catch up to him. "Wait, what?"

But Liz is too busy scowling at Alex as she hands something across the table to Michael, who is all smiles.

"He does? Did she just give you money? When is someone going to actually explain to me what powers this Scarlet Witch, ok fine, Wizard, actually has so I can start following along," Alex complains for real, and then turns his sharp eyes on Liz, "and since when are you a comic book nerd?"

"I'm not, but Kyle and your man here are so I suggested we raid Kyle's collection after Michael filled me in on his theories about why he's been accidentally hurling things at his friends of late," Liz responds matter-of-factly.

Alex looks over to check on Michael's mood regarding his haywire powers and sure enough, the smile is gone and the wounded-puppy eyes are making an appearance. It's still really bothering him. Alex squeezes his waist and leans over to give him another kiss, this one on his stubbly cheek, to reassure his love that they're going to figure this out. He lays his head on Michael's shoulder and feels the alien relax a little. Good.

"What did you guys find out?"

"Well..." Liz says dramatically, her artfully applied makeup making her big black eyes shine with academic enlightenment. Alex knows from long exposure that sharing her findings is Liz's favorite part of doing research. He scooches his stool a little closer to Michael's to get comfy as she rifles through the pile of comics to her left and his boyfriend wraps his recently-healed hand around his waist as well, warming him up from the inside out. 

What she holds up, however, is an actual book but it doesn't quite look like an anthology, not thick enough. Alex leans forward a little trying to catch a glimpse of the cover so Liz turns the book around for him to read the title.

" _Science of the X-Men_?"

"Yeah, cool, huh?!"

Alex is intrigued. "Definitely."

The cover is a shiny silver color with the emblem of the X-Men taking up the majority of the page, schematic blueprint drawings visible behind the giant X. Alex reads the byline out loud more to himself than anyone else: _From Biomechanics to Genetics; From Professor X to Wolverine. The Official Guide to the Scientific Reality of the Mutant World!_

He notices all of the skinny red Post-It notes marking pages of interest and looks up at Liz again. "Ok, you've piqued my curiosity. What's it say about this Scarlet Witch lady?"

Before Liz can utter more than a few words from the page she's started reading, however, Michael pipes up beside him, "Have you seen _The Avengers: Age of Ultron_ , Alex?"

"Uh," Alex has think about it for a moment, "I think so? Is that the one where they're fighting on an island in the sky?"

Michael chuckles. "Yeah."

"Then yes. They showed it in the hangar on base in Baghdad. Every once in a while, someone's family would send them a movie on DVD. Why, what's that got to do with the X-Men?"

"You remember Wanda Maximoff, the woman who could move things with her mind, made all those cool gestures with her hands, red sparks shooting out in front of her?"

"Yeah, I think so. She's the one who fell in love with—"

There is a pregnant pause, and then the light bulb turns on in Alex's head and he sits up with an indignant, "Hey!"

Michael is looking far too pleased with himself while trying to maintain an air of innocence. Yeah right, innocent Alex's ass!

"You mean I've known who it was this whole time?" Alex pinches Michael's skin where his hand is still clasped around his waist. "Why didn't you say anything, ya big jerk!" Michael laughs even as he flinches and tries to get away but doesn't have much luck since Alex has just grabbed on to his belt and has no intention of letting go. Apparently, Alex needs to work on his pinching skills if Michael's going to react like he's being tickled instead, so he changes tack and attacks with his other hand, tickling the exposed skin of Michael's stomach where his shirt has come untucked.

In between bursts of laughter and gasps for breath, Michael still manages to be a snarky bastard, "Uh, because the look of annoyed ignorance on your face when Kyle and I were talking about Marvel characters was just too funny to resist?"

"Too funny, huh? I'll show you funny!" 

And that is how two grown men manage to fall off of their stools in a flail of limbs and awkward squawking noises. They land in a heap and Michael makes a big show of sounding like a deflated bellows with an _OOMF_ sound as Alex lands on top of him. 

"Ugh, you weigh a ton, ge'off," he whines as he wraps his hands around Alex's back to reshuffle him off the goods and into the crook of his arm.

"Serves you right," Alex harrumphs as he gets comfy against Michael's chest. He's tired and really lucky his prosthetic didn't get caught in the stool and he just has no real interest in getting up now. Well, getting _it_ up, sure, but that would have to wait until Liz leaves for the night... which they could probably precipitate with some suggestive movements and noises right about now, but Alex really is curious to find out why they were reading comics all day, so his dick will just have to wait a little while longer.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Liz's head slide into view, her beautiful long black hair hanging over the edge of the research table; she must be lying on it to assess the damage. 

In lieu of asking if they're okay, she rises up to rest on her elbows and pulls that X-Men science book in front of her and clears her throat to get their wandering attention (Michael is so _warm_ ) back on her.

"As I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted," she pauses for a moment to let that sink in with the guilty parties. Alex can't really see her from his position nestled under Michael's chin, but he can practically feel the glare she's directing down at them. "I was about to read you some interesting facts about the Scarlet Witch. _Though more known as a member of the Super Hero team the Avengers, Wanda Maximoff is a mutant. She is the daughter of Magneto and the sister of Quicksilver._ Hey, see, so Kyle wasn't far off when he called you Magneto, Mikey," Liz comments. 

Alex snickers at the nickname that only Liz is ballsy enough to call Michael. He knows from the grunting response which reverberates through the chest beneath him that Michael knows when to complain about it and when to keep his big mouth shut.

" _She has effected disturbance of energy fields and signals, spontaneous combustion of flammable objects, rapid decay and rust of inorganic and organic materials, abrupt melting of gun barrels, poltergeist-like deflection of flying objects, and rapid removal of air from a given area._ "

"Wow, that's a lot of stuff," Alex muses, impressed. "Can you do all of those things, too?"

"Um, well, Max didn't want us using our powers casually in case we got made, so I had to go far away from people to practice because I didn't want to lose anything I had that connected me to where we came from, you know," Michael replies, voice low but steady. "So, I went out to Foster's Homestead Ranch a lot but it's not like there are that many gun barrels just lying around on the desert floor for me to melt, so, I mean, I guess so? But I'd have to try it first."

"It says here that her range is limited by her line of sight. She can effect a change in the molecular structure of objects she can see in her immediate physical vicinity, but she can't, like, melt anything she sees in another location via a television show she's watching," Liz adds, flipping through her post-it notes.

Alex's head bounces a tiny bit as Michael huffs out a short puff of laughter. "True. One of the – frankly many – times I got really mad at Max when he came in to the junkyard to complain about one thing or another, I tried really hard to use my telekinesis to unscrew the air cap on one of his tires after he'd left so that his stupid Jeep would get a flat but wouldn't blow a tire or anything drastic," he lets out another puff of self-deprecating laughter. "All I ended up doing was unscrewing the air caps on all the cars in the junkyard instead. Including my truck."

Alex squeezes him more tightly as he coos, "awww, poor baby."

He can hear Liz's muffled snickers floating down. Alex loves hearing stories about Michael's life during the ten years he was away from Roswell, and he's sure Liz feels the same way hearing about Max while she was off becoming a badass biomedical engineer.

"Liz, tell him about the other thing we were discussing that the Scarlet Witch can do," Michael says.

"Oh, yeah! You're gonna like this, Alex, it's really out there," Liz replies enthusiastically. Alex shifts his head to the left a little bit so he can see Liz better. She's so animated when she's excited, he wants to get the full effect of her explanation.

"Out there where?" he asks, smiling.

"In Michael's playground: quantum mechanics and theoretical physics!" At Alex's perplexed raising of eyebrows, she elaborates a little more, "you know, the bones of what makes his telekinesis work."

Alex is no dummy but he's had a long day and unlike the other two people in the room, he did not devour math and science textbooks in high school or college. He wanted to be a musician. "Um... I thought being an alien was what made his telekinesis work."

Michael must pick up on his confusion, because he starts running his left hand up and down Alex's back in a return gesture of comfort and adds, "It is, luv. But we can still use scientific principles to explain the mechanics of it. In other words, concepts such as Schrödinger's Cat and Chaos Theory, y'know, entropy."

Alex raises his head at the mention of the word 'entropy' and turns to look with wide eyes at Michael, who seems to have magicked over a pillow from their cot and is currently resting against it with his right hand bent behind his head. He smiles at the recognition in Alex's eyes of their shared memory from so long ago. Michael reaches up to place a gentle kiss against Alex's lips, then continues. 

"So... Liz and I were noodling this out earlier – yes, that is a highly scientific term, don't give me that Eyebrow of Snark, mister. Okay, fine, we were cogitating earlier; there, is that better? Oh good – that my telekinesis works because my alien brain uses an electromagnetic sensibility to observe electrons at a quantum level and influence the direction in which I want them to go. Observation affects outcome: that's Schrödinger's Paradox in a nutshell. So, that's how I made this pillow fly over here from our bed. But Liz and I were thinking, what if I could focus that observation on the inside of the human body to affect how blood cells and arteries and, oh say, the heart muscle and brain neurons behaved? Max is stuck in a quantum 'mixed state' right now, neither alive nor dead because of the womb-like capabilities of our pods. Maybe I could give him a biometric jumpstart or something..."

"Is he asleep yet?" Alex hears Liz chuckle but it sounds muffled and far away.

"Just about, yeah."

"'m awake," Alex mutters. Really. He can even still see the soft smile on his beloved's face. And that sounds like a great idea which they should totally test out later. It's just that his eyelids suddenly feel a lot heavier than they did a few minutes ago. And Michael is just so warm and comfy and he's quietly talking Science to Alex and rubbing his back and his head feels all tingly and this has got to be the best kind of ASMR Alex has ever watched. And he watched plenty when he was still in recovery for his leg. This is even better though because there's actual physical contact involved. And it's Michael making him feel safe and loved. He smiles because Michael is smiling, eyes closing again of their own accord.

"Ugh, you guys are too cute for me, I'm going home."

"Okay, science buddy, thanks for today, that was fun."

"Anytime, Guerin, I think we may be on to something here. See you tomorrow?"

"For sure."

"Bye, Liz," Alex murmurs.

"Bye, sweetie."

Alex tries to snuggle further into Michael's side, but feels strangely floaty instead. Oh, right. He's being levitated. It takes several tries to get his eyes to stay open long enough for his brain to process the incoming optical information and confirm that yes, he is now safely deposited on their cot. Awesome. Time for spooning. "Leg, please," he mumbles, already half asleep.

Michael attends to his prosthetic and rubs the stump with the cream they keep by the bed.

"Thank you. Goodnight kiss?"

Alex feels soft lips and gentle hands roaming over his forehead, stroking his cheeks, kissing his lips.

"Anything else?"

Alex may be half asleep but he can still hear the tender humor in Michael's voice.

"No, just you." The cot dips behind him and he makes an approving sound, snuggling back against the warm body of the being he loves most on this level, the quantum level, or any other level the universe has to offer.

~*~

The two lovers drift off to sleep under the softly pulsating glow of the soul bond on Michael's back and the matching one on Alex's chest, almost as if they were standing guard, waiting to send a message out into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Science of the X-Men](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/707645.The_Science_of_the_X_Men). I grew up watching the X-Men cartoon on TV (their theme song is in the top three in my humble opinion, the other two being Star Trek: The Next Generation and Star Trek: Deep Space Nine), reading Marvel comics (but I'm an equal opportunity geek- I was also a big Batman fan), and collecting trading cards. I bought this book many moons ago, so I was really pleased to get to use it in a fanfic ^_^. I think it's a really cool book if you're a fan of the X-Men and science and how comic book writers have melded the two genres, a lot like Gene Roddenberry did with science and space exploration in Star Trek.


	7. My Skin Is Aglow with the Light of Your Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an ode to one of my favorite sci-fi movies of the 90's 👽🥰.
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters, quotes, and pop culture references belong to their respective creators.

“Why do you look like this?” Alex asks quietly, words soft and fuzzy as they roll off his tongue and over the curve of Michael’s bare chest. They’re lying in bed late at night a few days later, tired enough to want to just lay in each other’s arms but not quite on the verge of falling asleep.

Michael huffs out a small laugh, bouncing Alex’s head a little where he’s listening to his heart beat. He lifts the arm not wrapped around Alex’s torso and flexes his bicep in classic _Walk Like an Egyptian_ style. “Well, I go to the gym regularly— I don’t care what Valenti says, I never see him there either— and I have this hot-like-burning boyfriend who feeds me diner food and believes that mustard is the only worthwhile condiment—”

“That’s cuz it is,” Alex mumbles indignantly into Michael’s left pec, drawing lazy patterns over the skin of his right pec with the pad of a finger. 

“—hence the reason I go to the gym; are you seeing a pattern here, Private, because I am and—”

“The only pattern I’m seeing here is how much of a dork you are,” Alex giggles.

“—these curls, babe,” Michael carries on blithely, “these curls are 100% au natu-ow!”

Alex pinches a nipple to get him to stop, ignoring his mock-affronted gasp, “I’m serious, Cowboy.” He tries to school his expression even though Michael can’t see it, “or well, I mean, I just—”

“Wanna know why I look like a human and not, say, something oh, I dunno, three feet tall and green with huge black eyes and two fingers on each hand?”

Alex sighs, rubbing his cheek against Michael’s warm skin. “Yeah. Sorry, forget it, it’s stupid and I-I shouldn’t—”

“No, no it’s fine, that’s a valid question and you know what, I’ve asked myself that same thing, aside from the obvious need to blend in with the human population, is this what I really look like? But I’ve never accidentally shape-shifted into anything else when I sneezed or turned a different color in the rain or anything so I guess that’s one for the “humanoid inside and out” column,” he chuckles as the hand wrapped around Alex’s back starts rubbing soothing circles into his skin, making Alex’s eyes droop, “although watching _Men in Black_ did make me a little nervous. I didn’t want to randomly find out one day that maybe I’ve just been wearing a _Egger-suit_ all this time, y’know?”

 _No, ma’am, we at the FBI do not have a sense of humor that we’re aware of,_ Alex quotes in his best deadpan Tommy Lee Jones voice.

 _Did you ever flashy-thing me?_ Michael asks in his best Will Smith voice.

 _No,_ Alex immediately replies, trying not to ruin the grumbly voice by laughing.

_I ain’t playing with you, K. Did you ever flashy-thing me?!_

_No._

“Oh, he so flashy-thinged J. Didn’t he do it like three of four times?”

Alex does laugh now. “He totally did! I love that movie… But yeah, ouch, I can see how it would mean something completely different for you.”

Michael sighs in agreement. “Yeah… wanna watch it?”

Alex lifts his head off Michael’s chest to look at him curiously, one eyebrow raised in question. “What, now?”

Michael’s eyes have gone soft. “Why not? I’ve seen how it ends and we’re not all bad. Plus, I’d be watching it with you.”

Alex’s face cracks into a wide grin as he leans forward to place a tender loving kiss on his cosmic lover’s lips, breathing him in for a moment before sitting up. “K, I’ll go get my laptop.”

“No, you’re K. I wanna be J.” Michael floats Alex’s sunglasses off his shelf by the bed and puts them on, then gives Alex a cheeky wink and drawls, _You know what the difference is between you and me? I make this look GOOD._

Alex giggles and leans back in for another kiss. “You certainly do, Cowboy.” Michael pouts. Alex rolls his eyes as he sits up to grab hold of the nearest table, “You certainly do, _Agent_ Cowboy.” In his periphery, he can see Michael’s boyish grin shining up at him in the soft glow of the moonlight floating in through the air tunnels as he propels himself up and forward over to the table where he’d been working on his laptop earlier. Carrying it back with him requires some finesse, mostly an inchworm type movement of placing the computer forward a few feet and swinging with his arms and good leg to catch up to it. He actually tries not to let Michael use his powers too often, at least not for Alex’s sake, because he needs to keep his mobility skills sharp.

“Now that we’ve got a better signal down here thanks to the new router I installed today, we should be able to strea—” Alex hisses at a sudden slash of pain that lances through his body. Luckily he’d already set down the laptop on the table closest to the bed before swinging forward.

“Alex? What is it?” 

Alex looks down but can’t see into the shadows so he turns towards the moonlight and hears Michael gasp.

“You’re bleeding.”

There, right above his low-slung pajama pants, of course, is a razor-thin red line of blood trickling down from an apparent slice into his left hip. “Okay, but I don’t even—” Alex hops on his foot to pivot around, looking for the source of the cut. “Oh damn, I forgot to— oops, my bad,” he looks sheepishly over at a worried-looking Michael.

“Forgot to what?”

Alex blushes a little, “I, um, kinda sorta forgot to retract the X-ACTO blade I used to open all the packing material in the router box earlier and when I set the laptop down on the table I may have accidentally, uh, made a spear out of it?”

Michael’s jaw drops as he scoots out to the edge of the bed and beckons Alex over so he can get a better look and give Alex something else to grasp to keep him steady, his stump resting on top of the mattress. 

“You? Mr. OSHA himself? Say it ain’t so, Joe!” Comes the inevitable snark. 

Alex takes it in stride. He’s always harping on Michael to be safer in his bunker as he goes about his day being Mad Scientist buddies with Liz but he hadn’t thought any of it had stuck. They certainly never seem to take any of his advice seriously.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’ll go turn myself in to Human Resources,” Alex replies with a huff as he looks down over his left shoulder at his boyfriend, “but first tell me, Dr. Guerin, what’s the prognosis?”

Michael and Liz have been poring over Grey’s Anatomy and any other medical books, which is to say, ALL of the medical books, from Kyle’s house for the last several days on their new quest to explore the circulatory system of the human body. They’re trying to find out if they can use the Scientific Method to actually take Michael’s hypothesis and put it to practical use. To use his telekinesis to move blood vessels and tendons and tissues around. To regenerate damaged nerve cells. To heal.

“Eh, you’ll live,” Michael drawls with an affected air of superiority that Alex supposes is his impression of one Dr. Kyle Valenti, M.D.

“How reassuring,” Alex deadpans. “So, there’s no need for any stitches then, right?”

Left hand fanned out across his hip and right hand supporting his lower back, Michael lifts his head with a sly look in his eyes and Alex’s breath catches in his throat, “What, you don’t want me to poke you with my needle?”

Alex has a perfectly sexy comeback for Michael’s horrible pun, he really does, but just as he opens his mouth to speak, Michael cups his left hand over the gash and presses more firmly into Alex’s lower back and instead of words the only sound that escapes is a breathy moan of pleasure. Alex tightens the grip he has on Michael’s right shoulder as a wave of arousal cascades over him like a waterfall. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice gone, head lolling back on his shoulders, eyes barely open. “Michael.”

There’s a curious hmm? sound from beneath him that gets cut off by a startled, “Holy shit!” a moment later. Alex manages to look down and jumps at what he sees. Thank goodness Michael’s still holding onto him or he would have fallen over.

The full-body tingling sensation of arousal is still making all of Alex’s nerve endings sing but he’s able to re-wire enough brain cells to compute the incoming visual data from his corneas to see the softly glowing trail of light that is following Michael’s hand around wherever it touches Alex’s skin.

“Are y—you doing that?” he whispers.

“N—no,” Michael whispers back, swallowing audibly. 

Michael draws his left hand back towards Alex’s bellybutton and that’s when they both belatedly notice that Alex’s pajama pants are tented AF because Michael’s hand actually runs into it, causing Alex to moan again and twitch in Michael’s hold.

That curious sound is back and Michael’s brows are furrowed, all flirting brushed aside as he puts his ‘science face’ on as Alex likes to call it. He tries to voice the question in his head but only gets as far as “What’s going—ahhhh!” before he’s overcome with another surge of arousal spreading out from the base of his spine and leans forward to steady himself against Michael’s forehead, about ready to collapse on top of him. His knees feel like jelly and he can _feel_ it, he can feel where Michael’s hand is traveling across his skin, but not on a cutaneous level. It’s like he can feel his body going through the healing process in fast motion, like someone took a time lapse video of the cut on his hip as it healed at a natural rate and then played it back. A stretch of days reduced to a matter of moments. But with visceral feelings instead of visual cues. The area around the injured skin of his hip feels warm from inflammation for a moment then it cools off, a scab forms and after feeling sore for a few beats of Alex’s heart dries up just as quickly, crinkles, and wears away, leaving a fresh pink scar of newly formed skin. Somewhere in the back of Alex’s overwhelmed brain there’s a few neurons postulating that the cut must not have been very deep or there would have been more blood. 

“You… you just…” Alex’s voice sounds all crackly with amazement and he loses his train of thought when Michael rolls him into his arms as he lies back down, minding his right leg. He spoons up behind Alex, resting his healed hand over the newly healed spot on Alex’s left hip. The rave going on in Alex’s nerve endings is starting to wind down now; he got so caught up in experiencing Michael heal his wound that he’s only now noticing that the tent in his pants has caved in as quickly as it had been pitched. Weird alien science is weird.

“Yeah,” Michael sighs into the hair at the nape of his neck. “I guess it works.” His breathing is labored but Alex isn’t quite sure if that’s from using his powers in a new way or if he’s aroused, too. He doesn’t feel anything hard pressing up against him. He can feel his smile pressing into his skin though which makes him smile in return until a thought occurs to him suddenly and he can’t help blushing. One of the perks of being the little spoon means that no one can see it, so that’s a plus. “Wait, does that mean— when Max heals people, does he— ewww, did you feel like, when he healed your hand?”

“Sorry, Private, I’m the Jedi, not the psychic, remember?” Michael teases. “Like what?” But before Alex can even open his mouth to try explaining himself better, Michael continues, caressing Alex’s hip aimlessly. “You should have seen your face, by the way, when Kyle said that,” he giggles into Alex’s neck. “Oh man he got you good. You had this WTF look on your face. It was adorable.”

Alex is surprised into giggling with him. He’s kind of amazed that Michael even brought up a memory from that day much less found it amusing enough to laugh about it. He pulls Michael’s hand up from his hip to wrap his arm around his chest, cocooning himself in Michael’s ever-warm embrace. They must be maturing in their relationship and in general if they’re having moments like this. He doesn’t want to burst the bubble so he just hmm’s softly and redirects the conversation, tucking this moment away to mention later on when he can tell Michael how proud of him he is. 

“Yeah, I remember. Um, what I was trying to say, is um, I mean, cuz I get it with Liz and the handprint and stuff, but uh, wouldn’t it be kind of awkward to um, give random people boners when he’s healing them?” Alex finally manages to ramble out his thoughts.

His question is met with silence. 

In fact, the more seconds that tick by without a response from the peanut gallery, who suddenly starts snoring, of all things, the more Alex starts to suspect that he’s been had. “Guerin…” Alex infuses as much ‘raised eyebrow of doom’ tone as he can into that one word. It’s never failed him before, and it doesn’t now either.

The snoring abruptly cuts off. “Okay, ya caught me,” Michael replies sounding sorry, not sorry. “I went down the parasympathetic nervous system rabbit hole yesterday and learned some really cool shit and just wanted to, y’know—”

“Oh. My. God. Were you using me as a science experiment, you alien fucker?!” Alex laughs incredulously, turning around in Michael’s embrace to punch him in the arm.

Michael recoils from the impact, making a silent, comically surprised ‘ow!’ face that is way more adorable than it has any right to be when Alex is mad at him. No fair. 

“Technically speaking,” Michael says quietly in his best ‘Guerin is a little shit’ voice, because yes, Alex has definitely labeled it in his head, “you’re the alien fucker in this relationship…”

“Damn right I am!” Alex huffs out indignantly as he turns back around and wriggles up against his ridiculous genius boyfriend’s crotch as much as he can while he gets comfortable again just to prove his point. “And don’t you forget it.”

The gasping and moaning sounds reverberating through his shoulder are answer enough and now he does feel something hard pressed up against him. “Now, are we going to watch J run circles around _the best of the best of the best, sir!_ or what?”

The laptop clamshell obediently opens and the keyboard taps in the password and finds its way over to Netflix and Alex is having fun watching his computer direct itself when he feels a hand wandering back down to that spot right above his tailbone.

“Or what,” Michael breathes into his ear as the movie soundtrack starts playing against the backdrop of stars twinkling over the desert landscape.

Alex lets loose a full-body shiver in anticipation. “For science, huh?”

Michael kisses the underside of his jaw. “For science.”


End file.
